Beginnings: Reasons
by Xenitha
Summary: Why International Rescue was formed, as told by Scott Tracy. This story is part of a series of stories I'm writing detailing how International Rescue came to be.
1. Chapter 1

Standard Disclaimers: Thunderbirds don't belong to me, they belong to whoever the Andersons have assigned the rights to. But I don't make any money off this, so please don't sue me.

BEGINNINGS: REASONS

International Rescue had its beginnings in anguish and grief. I should know, I was there. I was eleven years old and my mother had decided to take me shopping for some new school shoes. My brothers are all younger than I am. At the time, Virgil was seven, John was five and Gordon was three years old, so she left them home with Grandma to babysit. She brought along Alan, my brother the toddler, in his stroller and my job was to push Alan.

It's a good thing that the stroller was pretty sturdy. I called it the tank because it was big, gray and sturdy. Alan loved being in it, especially when I was pushing, because we'd go fast. He was a little over a year old, with blond hair and blue eyes. He was also completely fearless. I'd run that stroller down the sidewalk at top speed and Alan would just beg for more. Of course, Mom got pretty nervous and made me slow down. We had gone to Topeka, to Hansen's Department Store. Alan was fussy, so Mom let me run him down an empty aisle downstairs to calm him down. Eventually he fell asleep and Mom was able to buy my shoes. She packed the shoes, Alan and me onto the Monorail for the airport. We lived in such a rural part of Kansas that we used Mom's small airplane like a car in any other family. Mom used a stretch of barren field as an airstrip back at the farmhouse. Dad often joked that Mom had more flight time than he did, she took us on so many errands in that plane.

When we got to the airport, they were talking about closing it due to bad weather. They said that a blizzard was coming in and expected it to shut things down for days. Mom looked worried when they told her that, but decided to try for home anyway. She said she was worried about Grandma, stuck in a house with three active little boys and thought she should try to get back, since Dad was out of town.

I was okay either way. I liked flying with Mom. Of course, she would never do barrel rolls or other aerobatics like Dad always did when he took us up, but it was still fun flying with her. She'd point out houses and farms and landmarks she thought I should know. One trip, she let me navigate and figure out the right vectors for home. And once she let me take the yoke and fly the plane while she supervised. That was the best of all. She was a tall woman, about Dad's height with red hair that she wore in a long braid down her back. She had brown eyes and her favorite color was green. She hated Brussels sprouts and loved chocolate, especially Grandma's brownies.

She told me she had been a pilot in the Air Force when she met Dad, but she had to retire when she had all of us kids. Sometimes, she looked wistful when she talked about flying jets and not little single-engine airplanes like the one we had.

When Mom flew us from place to place, I had a chance to talk to her about things, like school or what I wanted to do when I grew up. It was a given that I'd be a pilot like my Mom and Dad, maybe even an astronaut. Mom would always say solemnly that if I decided to be a pilot, she'd be proud to have me fly her anywhere in my jet plane.

The sky was dark gray with cloud cover when Mom got the Tower's okay to take off. The takeoff was smooth but about five hundred feet up we hit turbulence that bounced us all around. Alan woke up and began to cry, but I trusted Mom to fly us safely home and didn't worry about it. I tried playing with Alan to keep him from distracting Mom, (another of my jobs when Mom was flying) and eventually he fell asleep.

We were about half an hour out, over open country, when the snow began to fall and the winds picked up. Mom glanced at me and Alan to make sure we were both buckled in. Alan sat in his baby seat behind me and I had my seatbelt on, so she smiled at me and looked back out the windshield.

"Don't worry, Scott, we'll be home soon," Mom said reassuringly.

"I'm not scared, Mom," I answered. I never minded the bumps.

"Good," she said, frowning at her instruments. "Honey, take care of Alan if he cries, would you? He's so young, he doesn't understand why he's being bounced around."

"I'll watch out for him, Mom, like I always do," I said proudly.

She smiled, eyes still focused on the weather outside. "You're a good big brother, Scott. I trust you to take care of your little brothers," she said.

Just then, she had to focus on her piloting. The windshield had whited out with snow and blowing wind so that you couldn't see anything. The turbulence had gotten worse and I could see she was fighting to keep us level. The floor dropped away and I was suddenly weightless; I could feel my body against the straps. Then, just as suddenly I was thumped back into my seat. Alan started crying again. I could hear cussing under her breath, words Grandma didn't approve of, as she struggled with the plane. She activated her headset and made a call to the Topeka Tower giving a mayday and our bearing. Then I knew that something was really wrong because Mom looked scared.

She glanced at me with a tense smile. "I'm going to have to put her down, Scott, so it's going to get even bumpier. I want you to bend over at the waist and hold your ankles and put your feet flat on the floor, okay?"

I nodded. "You mean crash position?" Mom nodded back and said, "I don't think we'll crash, Hon, but we may come down kind of hard so it's better to be prepared."

I was starting to feel scared and did as she asked. The plane bumped and leaped around us. Soon we were out of the clouds I could see the snowy ground coming up fast. There was a loud crashing sound, and the windshield shattered and scattered glass all over us as the plane skidded along the snowy ground, then hit some trees. The plane flipped over and came to a stop. The plane's engine had stopped and big tree branches were pushing through the holes in the windshield.

It was very quiet, even Alan had stopped crying. I was hanging upside down from the seat straps. I had a couple of cuts on my arms and a sore neck but nothing else was hurt. I reached over and shook Mom's shoulder. "Mom? Are you okay?" I asked.

She just hung there in her straps with her eyes closed, her hands clenched on the yoke and blood dripping out of a cut in her head. I released my seatbelt and dropped three or four feet to what used to be the ceiling of the cockpit. Then I heard Alan whimpering and went over to where he was hanging upside down in his baby seat. He looked funny, with his blonde curls all fuzzed out around his head, but he didn't look happy either. I unstrapped him and pulled him down, holding him in my arms. Then I undid his baby seat, so he'd have something to sit in that would protect him from the glass. I gave him his pacifier and he seemed happy, so I went back to Mom.

I was afraid to move her because the first aid I learned in Boy Scouts said not to, but the snow was coming in through the busted windshield. Mom had bought three new blankets at the store, so I opened the packages and made a cushion under her then released her straps and tried to ease her down onto the nest I'd made. I covered her up with the last blanket, then pulled Alan and I underneath it with her to stay warm.

She kind of woke up then and looked at me and smiled. "Hey…Scott," she said. "Are you okay? How's Alan?"

"We're fine, Mom," I answered and fought down the urge to burst into tears now that Mom was awake. "Are you okay?"

She frowned and thought for a moment. "Scott, I think maybe I'm hurt. I can't feel my arms or my legs." My eyes widened and I looked up at her seat overhead, wondering if I hurt her when I undid her seat belt. Her eyes followed mine. "No, Honey, I don't think you did anything wrong. I think it was the crash." She met my eyes with a very serious expression in her face. "Scott, I may not be able to help you much; you'll need to be my hands and feet. Can you do that?"

I nodded vigorously. "Good," she said. "Can you find the emergency box? There should be a space blanket inside and some flares."

I dug around in the wreckage that was the rear of the plan and found it. I opened it and pulled out a small silver packet, then unfolded it into a large sheet of silver.

"Good, Scotty," she said, her eyes closing then reopening with difficulty. "Spread the blanket over all three of us. It will help keep the snow off and keep us warm."

I spread it and held it down on the corners with any heavy bits of metal or wood I could scavenge. The wind was picking up and the snow was blowing through the holes in the plane. Her eyes closed, Mom kept talking. "Scott, stay here in the plane until the weather clears up. There's more shelter here than anywhere else. When it clears, set off the flares outside so that they can see us. No matter what, stay with the plane so they can find you…."

"Don't you mean us, Mom? Find us?" I asked, suddenly getting scared again.

Mom's eyes opened a little bit. "Scotty, I'm not feeling too good right now. You might have to take care of Alan for me. And when you get home, I want you to watch over your brothers. Would you do that?"

"Yeah, Mom, you know I'm a good big brother," I protested. "But you'll be home, too."

She smiled again and went to sleep. I tucked the blankets around her, then pulled Alan out of his baby seat and put him in the middle between us where he'd be warmest and snuggled in next to him to wait out the storm.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2:

Mom opened her eyes and turned her head toward me. "Scott, go to the radio and see if it's working, would you?"

I got up and picked up the microphone. None of the lights were on. I turned the buttons on and off, then tried to open the little door in front of the radio. When I pulled at it, the door fell off and I could see the snow sifting through the open back. "The radio's smashed, Mom."

"Okay, Honey, go find my purse and we'll try my cell phone." I glanced at her, worried, her voice sounded so faint. I began to rummage through what was left of the cockpit but didn't find her purse. "Mom…I can't find it…" I said at last, looking through an open hole in the plane's side. "Maybe it got thrown outside. I can go look for it," I offered.

"No! Don't go out into the snow, Scott, I don't want you to get lost," she said in a breathy voice. "Do you have your cell phone?"

I reached into my jacket pocket. Dad had given the phone to me for my birthday last year, saying that he felt I was responsible enough to have one and not to sneak calls during class. I'd obeyed his instructions..pretty much. It had an atomic battery and was guaranteed not to need charging. I pulled it out and showed it to Mom. "I've got it, Mom."

Her eyes were closed now. "Good…good…Dial 911 and tell them your name and that our plane crashed…"

I punched in the number, but kept on eye on Mom. She didn't look too good. Even though it was dark in the plane, her face looked pale and gray. The phone dialed, then all I heard was a busy signal. "Nothing, Mom, just a busy signal," I said.

She nodded, her eyes still closed. "Okay, Honey, now would you find the emergency box and go through it and tell me what's in it, okay?"

"Okay, Mom," I put the phone back into my pocket, then pulled the box closer to where Mom and Alan lay. "Okay, Mom...uh..here's a flashlight with batteries in it," I said and lit the flashlight up. I could see that Mom's eyes were still closed but she kept talking.

"Okay, Scott, go ahead and turn it off. You want to save the batteries. Don't use it unless you have to. What else is there?"

I rummaged through, "I've got two flares, a first aid kit, a knife, some rope, a box of matches and five packages marked..um..MRE."

"Those are ready to eat meals. There should be directions for heating them on the packages," Mom said.

"Good," I replied. "'Cause I'm really hungry."

"Scott…go ahead and pick one but only eat half of it, share it with Alan. We don't know how long the storm will last and you want to save as much as you can." I could see her eyes open now, glittering in the near dark.

"But what about you? What will you eat?" I demanded.

"I'm not hungry, you go ahead," she said. "My stomach kind of hurts."

I nodded. "Oh. Okay," and followed the directions to heat the meal. It felt good, warming my hands even though there was no flame in the heater.

Alan was awake and in a good mood. He smelled the food and crawled over to me, giggling. I grinned back and sat him up next to me and began to spoon the…I read the label…spaghetti into his mouth. We only ate half the package, but we could have finished it off. Instead I put the lid back on and stored it in the back of the plane, where it was cold. I remembered that mom had a bottle of water in the stroller, so I left Alan sitting on the blanket and used the flashlight to find it.

I found baby wipes, the bottle of water and more food! Mom had packed a sandwich bag full of crackers and a banana for Alan. I put the food next to the MRE and took the wipes and a diaper back to Alan and wiped his face and hands down, then changed his diaper. I was glad that Alan was a good tempered baby. He rarely fussed and I don't know what I'd have done if he gotten upset out there. Mom was asleep again, so Alan and I each had a drink of water.

I tried the radio again and the cell phone. The phone was still busy. Maybe when the sun was up the next day I'd see if I could fix the radio.

I tucked Alan back under the blankets again next to Mom and snuggled up to them to sleep and really tried to rest. But my eyes kept opening every time the wind came up and it was so cold. Finally I dozed off.

* * *

><p>Dad told me much later about what was happening at home.<p>

JEFF TRACY

I was in Houston at the Johnson Space Center when my mother called. She told me that Emily, Scott and Alan had been flying back in the Cessna when she'd called in a mayday. They'd never landed and nobody knew where they were or what had happened to them.

I was frantic to get the first flight home but by then the blizzard had hit and all flights were grounded. Instead, I rented a four wheel drive with snow tires. I was lucky enough that the freeways were clear, although traffic slowed to a crawl as the snow increased. While I drove, I telephoned the tower to get a firsthand report from them about what happened.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tracy, but they flew out this afternoon," said the Controller who had been on-shift that day. "Your wife and two kids, right? In a Cessna single engine plane, silver with red and blue stripes? Emily Tracy? Yeah, I was on duty. They took off about three fifteen in the afternoon. She was trying to beat the storm home."

I leaned back against the seat and watched the bumper to bumper traffic flow by. "Did you hear anything from her afterward? Any distress call? Are they searching?"

"I'm sorry but we got a brief and very faint mayday. The transmission cut out before we heard her position. Of course, the storm hit like a barrel of bricks and the interference is pretty bad. Nobody was expecting it to be this bad," the controller said mournfully. "You know, they're planning to send search teams out just as soon as it clears enough."

I controlled my temper and didn't tell him what I really thought about rescuers who waited for good weather to search for the lost. "Thank you, Earl. You have my cell number. Would you call me if you hear anything?"

"I'll be sure to do just that, Mr. Tracy," Earl replied and I put the phone down. They'd disappeared in the teeth of a blizzard and nobody, not the KHP, the police, even the Air Force Reserves would go out to search for them. The storm was too heavy for helicopters, the controller had said. They didn't have any heavy duty land vehicles or snow-cats to spare for a ground search when the search area was that large and so many other people needed help.

I drove all night without stopping, fearful that they would close down the road because of the snow. So far, so good, they had kept the highway relatively clear and my luck, such as it was, was holding.

I tried to call home but got a busy signal. Could be that the local phones had gone down, they often did in heavy snow, along with the power. The old farmhouse was well equipped with firewood, fireplaces and an iron stove. Mom and the boys would be all right, especially since she'd canned a bumper crop of vegetables and fruit last summer. They had a good pantry to live on, no matter how long they were snowed in.

My thoughts turned back to Emily and my two sons, my eldest and my youngest. Emily, so bright and strong. She's a better pilot than I am, although she'd never admit it. Scotty takes after her. He's friendly and smart and so very good with his brothers. He's determined to be a pilot and I think he has the discipline to be a good one. And little Alan, who looks like a cherub and charms everyone he meets. His smile can light up a room. They just had to be all right.

I listened to a news report during the drive about a billionaire's daughter, caught in an avalanche at an expensive ski resort, who was promptly rescued by the Kansas Highway Patrol. I'd met her father. He was a big campaign contributor to the Senator's reelection fund. Emily, Scott and Alan were small potatoes and I just wasn't important enough to make the governmental agencies search for them. I was an astronaut, for God's sake, but I wasn't famous enough or rich enough and in Houston, men who'd walked on the moon were a dime a dozen.

I rubbed my hand over my face. How long had it been since I'd slept? At least twenty four hours and I knew I wasn't going to sleep until they were home. I'd been on the road a good twelve hours and should be home by now, but the blizzards had snarled everything up.

I couldn't help but think of them. All I could do was try to get home to the rest of my family. And pray that my Emily and my two sons were alive.

* * *

><p>A FARMHOUSE IN KINSLEY, KANSAS-DAY 2<p>

Ruth Tracy looked down when she felt, rather than heard, her seven-almost-eight year old grandson Virgil standing next to her waiting to be noticed.

"Hi Virgil, did you want something?" Ruth asked this most sensitive of children. Virgil had been very quiet since Emily had taken Scott and Alan on that shopping trip. He had been even quieter since they got the call yesterday from the police about her daughter-in-law and grandsons.

Virgil nodded. "Scotty's crying."

Ruth's eyes widened. "What do you mean, Virgil? How do you know?"

Virgil shrugged. "I just know. Scotty's crying and he's scared. He wants us to go get him."

Ruth knelt down in front of Virgil. "Now Virgil, I want you to tell me just how you know about Scotty. Did you see him somehow? Did somebody tell you something?"

"Nobody told me anything, Grandma," Virgil said solemnly. "I always know when Scotty's hurt or upset. And he always knows about me, too."

"Do you know where he is?" Ruth asked tensely. Her Aunt Susan had been like that, too. She'd been able to tell when a family member was in trouble, but nobody in the family ever talked about her talent much for fear of being taken for kooks.

Virgil shook his head. "No. Just that he's cold and there's a lot of snow." He looked out the window. "But there's a lot of snow everywhere."

Ruth slowly got back to her feet. "Well, if you find out anything else about Scotty or your mother or Alan, you be sure to tell me, okay Sweetie?"

Again, Virgil nodded. "Okay, Grandma," he said and went back to watch television, leaving Ruth shaking her head. If there were even one survivor of the plane, which she was now certain had crashed, there was still hope. She bit her lip and wished that her son would get home.

* * *

><p>SCOTT<p>

I woke to quiet. The wind had died and all the sounds were muffled. There was light. I opened my eyes and saw that the sun was up and the sky looked blue. I moved and knocked snow off the silver blanket, then saw that lots of snow had gotten into the plane, but I felt pretty warm so that was okay. I rolled over and saw that Alan was still asleep and so was Mom.

I had to go to the bathroom, so I slid carefully out of the blanket and crept over to the side of the plane that had the big hole in it. I poked my head through and saw a blue sky with more clouds on the horizon and guessed that there was more snow coming. When I climbed through the hole, I was walking on what was left of the wing. It was shining silver in the sun. I'd loved that plane, not least because Dad let me pick the colors for it. I chose silver with red and blue because that made it look fast. Now it was just a broken-winged bird.

At the end of the wing I took care of business and looked around, hoping I'd see a house or a road or something, but there was nothing but ground and snow-covered hills and more trees.

I heard a squall from inside the plane and it was pretty clear that Alan was awake and wanted breakfast. Spaghetti was a weird breakfast, but I'd eat it and I knew he would too. Maybe I could talk Mom into having some, too, and a drink of water. Slipping a bit on the icy metal of the wing, I climbed back into the airplane.

Alan had started crawling across the floor, looking for me. I picked him up before he could reach the broken glass and went to check on Mom. Her eyes were closed, but she didn't wake up when I shook her shoulder gently. I put Alan down and tried again, harder. Then I put my hand on her cheek and it was cold, so cold.

My knees gave way and I found myself kneeling beside her, feeling for her wrist. Her hand was cold too and there wasn't a pulse. I pulled my hand away like it was on fire. I sat back on the blanket and pulled my knees to my chin without once looking away from her. My Mom was dead.

She was dead.

She was dead and I was alone.

I was all alone in the snow.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: I'd like to encourage anyone who's reading to leave reviews. It's hard to tell if anyone is reading this story without them or whether it's just Scott, Alan and I in that snow storm!

Reasons-Chapter 3

JEFF TRACY 

I pulled in at about 3 a.m. It was pitch dark and snowy out but the sky had cleared. The road had been plowed but our long driveway was still under deep snow, so I parked the rental and walked the rest of the way in. Expecting this, I had bought some snow shoes in Houston before I left.

The house was dark and I hadn't been able to call since the phones were still out. I got the front door open and found my mother stretched out on the couch with three little boys snuggled around her and an afghan tucked around them all. The dying fire in the fireplace lit the room, but the stove was still roaring and it was warm.

I stopped to look at what might be the only family I had left, then shook myself. Don't give up. Never give up, I reminded myself. I'd mourn later, if I had to, but for now I was going to focus on finding my Emily with Scott and Alan alive.

I must have made a noise, because my mother woke up. Dislodging herself from my sons, she sat up. "Jeff? Oh, I'm so glad you're home." She gently got up and tucked the afghan around the boys, then pulled me into the kitchen. "Would you like some coffee? I put a kettle on the old woodstove earlier."

"I'd love some, Mom," I said and sat down at the old wooden table. "Have you heard anything?"

She snorted. "Not a word. You'd think they could make a phone system that doesn't go down with every change in the weather." She brought a cup over to me and I sipped it, then grimaced.

She gave me a wise look. "I put extra sugar in. You've been on the road, goodness knows how long and you've had a shock. Now drink up. And when was the last time you slept?"

Never could put anything over on my Mom. "Not since I heard..." I replied. "I don't think I could sleep now, either."

"Well, there's nothing else you can do for them right now," she answered reasonably. "At least when the sun's up, you can drive over to the Sheriff's office and get them out searching. Go on, give it a try. You need to be rested for tomorrow."

I just looked at her, the worry eating away inside. It wasn't right, my sleeping in a warm and comfortable bed when Emily was...where? Out there in the snow, with Scotty and Allie. Mom stared right back and I knew this was one battle I wasn't going to win.

"All right," I said, finishing the coffee. "But wake me at sunrise or earlier if the phones come back on line."

She nodded and put my cup in the sink. "I'll do that."

As I got up, I saw that she wasn't moving to leave the kitchen. "Aren't you going to get some sleep?"

"No," she said, rinsing out the cup. "I've had my sleep. I'll stay up and wait for word. Think I'll make a pie, that way it'll be fresh when they come home. You know how Scotty loves my apple pie."

She gave me a half-smile. I nodded and left the kitchen.

* * *

><p>SCOTT TRACY <p>

I stayed by my mom and didn't move until I heard Alan start crying. He'd found a piece of glass and managed to cut his hand with it. That shook me. Mom was gone, so it was up to me to take care of my brother. I scrubbed at my eyes with my arm, then picked him up and hauled him over to the first aid kit. After I cleaned and bandaged his hand, we went over to the leftover spaghetti from last night and I fed him. I didn't eat anything, I wasn't hungry and didn't think I would be any time soon.

It was up to me to get us out of this. What had Mom said? Call on the cell phone and use the flares when somebody could see it. I dug out the cell phone and tried 911 again. This time, there was an answer.

"Marion County Sheriff's office, what is your emergency?" said a female voice.

For a moment, I was so surprised to get an answer I couldn't talk. Then I said, "My plane crashed and I need help. My mom's d..dead and it's just me and my little brother..." I could hear my voice wavering, so I stopped talking and took a deep breath. "Please, can you come get us?"

The voice softened. "What's your name, honey and how old are you?"

"My name is Scott Tracy and I'm eleven," I replied, clutching the phone close. The last thing I wanted was to drop it.

"Are either of you hurt? How old is your little brother?" she asked. I could hear typing noises in the background.

"We're fine. Alan's about a year old," I said. "Please, can you send somebody fast? My mom needs help. Maybe...maybe I was wrong and she's just real sick..." I hoped, oh how I hoped, I'd been wrong. Maybe I was just a stupid kid and Mom would be okay.

"Why do you think she died, Scott?" the voice asked.

"She's not breathing and she's...her body's cold," I answered.

"Do you know where you are, Scott?" she asked. "Can you see anything near you? Buildings?"

"No, ma'am," I answered. "Nothing but open space and snow, but I can go out and look again."

"No need, Scott, I'll keep your phone line open and we'll trace you with that. I'll send somebody as fast as I can, Scott. Because of the snow, we've got a lot of people we're helping. Until then, do you have any family I can call?"

"Yeah," I said. "Call my Dad and my Grandma." I gave her the number.

"Okay, I want you to wait on hold while I talk to your father," she said. "Now don't go anywhere; he'll probably want to talk to you. Okay?"

"Okay," I said and waited in the silence. She came back on the line and told me that the phones were still out at home but she'd stay with me on the phone until somebody came to get me. I didn't feel so alone, then.

An hour went by and I'd told Theresa all about school, my mom and dad, my brothers and the accident. I noticed it was getting colder, so I got up and looked at the sky outside. It had clouded up and was starting to snow again.

"Theresa, there's snow falling outside," I told her. "When are they going to get here?"

"I don't know, Scott," she said. "Most of our snow equipment has been out on rescues since these storms began. I'll try to find out how much longer this will take. For the time being, do you have some way to start a fire?"

"I've got matches," I said doubtfully. "And we landed in a grove of trees, but the wood will be wet."

"Go pick up some anyway and see if you can start a fire there, then wrap yourself and your brother up in those blankets," she said. "Keep the phone and tell me what you're doing."

I put Alan in his baby seat, even though he didn't like it and yelled. Then I went outside, found some broken branches and carried them back into the wreckage of the plane. I used the tissue paper and shoe box from my new shoes as kindling and got the wood burning. It was wet and very smoky, but we go a little heat from it. I wrapped Alan up in the blanket and put the silver blanket around both of us, still holding on the phone with Theresa.

"Why aren't they coming?" I asked her.

She sighed. "I'm sorry, Scott. The weight of the snow collapsed the roof on one of the hospitals. They've been working all morning, trying to get the patients out. This county only owns a helicopter and a snow-cat and they're both busy trying to get the people out. Then, they'll go to get you."

"Oh," I said, gnawing at my thumbnail. I guessed that a hospital full of sick people had to come before two kids. I heard the wind pick up outside. It was almost full dark, even though it wasn't noon yet. The snow had gotten heavier and was coming down hard.

* * *

><p>JEFF TRACY<p>

The sound of pounding on our front door woke me that morning. I grabbed my robe and wrapped myself in it and staggered into the livingroom before I was fully awake.

My mother had the door open and the local county sheriff stood in the doorway with a serious look on his face. "Jeff? Can I come in?" he said.

"Sam, come in out of the cold," I said and motioned him to take a seat near the fire. I sat down across from him.

"I'll get some coffee," Mom said and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Jeff, I have some news for you," Sam said uneasily. "We've located the plane your wife was flying. It went down in a remote part of Marion County. We've made contact with your son, Scott, by cell phone and have a good idea of where they are."

I brightened. "You found them! How are they? Are they okay? When are you bringing Emily and the boys back?" I couldn't control the grin of relief that spread across my face.

Mom returned with coffee and handed a cup to Sam. He thanked her and took a cautious sip, then held the mug in both hands. He couldn't meet my eyes. "Jeff, the dispatcher talked to your son, Scott. He and the baby are okay but it sounds like your wife didn't make it."

I felt the blood leave my face and heard a high pitched ringing sound in my ears. "What?" I asked dully.

Sam finally met my gaze. "I'm so sorry, Jeff, but from what Scott describes, it sounds like Emily passed away in her sleep a few hours after the crash."

I felt, rather than heard Mom sit down on the couch next to me and take my hand. "But the boys are all right?" she asked softly.

"Your son is a very self-reliant young man," Sam said. "He's taking care of his little brother like a master, has built a fire and wrapped them both up in blankets. They're camping out in the wreckage until we can pick them up."

That roused me. Scotty and Alan alone out there in a major snowstorm. "Why are they still out there? That plane went down yesterday!" I rasped, glad to be able to let out some of the anger at someone.

Sam sighed. "Jeff, we're all doing the best we can in these storms. Marion County barely has two pennies to rub together; you know the budget for manpower has been cut and all their equipment is out of date. Add to that the fact that St. Lawrence Hospital's roof fell in last night from the weight of the snow. They've been ferrying patients out for the past eight hours."

"Sam," I said, barely controlling the urge to punch him. "My two young sons are out there in that storm. Children. Why is _nobody_ trying to rescue them?"

"Marion County has called FEMA for aid, but again, the entire Midwest has been hit by this weather and we're in line for whatever they have to share, just like this county. We all live in a rural area and there isn't much money. I know that the plan was to send a helicopter out after them once the hospital evacuation started to wind down." He picked up his radio. "I'll check on their progress." He spoke briefly into the radio and then listened for some time. His face fell and he replied, "All right, I'll tell him. Jeff," he looked up at me with sorrow and frustration on his face. "They sent a 'copter out but it had to come back in. The weather's turned again. Nobody's going out until this storm clears, probably not for a day or so."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Just then the lights came back on and I could hear the phone start ringing over the hum of all the other machinery in the house. I ran to the table that housed the phone-set and screen and hit the 'respond' button. The screen flared with a fuzzy picture of a woman I'd never seen before.

"Yes, hello, this is Jeff Tracy..." I gasped through a mouth suddenly gone dry.

"Mr. Tracy, I'm so glad to finally reach you! I'm Theresa Simmons with the Marion County Emergency Dispatch Center. I'm afraid I have some difficult news about your wife..."

"Terri, I've already discussed it with Jeff," Sam moved in to stand next to me. "Have they picked up the boys?"

Her face fell. "No, I'm sorry. The copter just wasn't able to get through in this storm," she sighed. "But I do have your son, Scott, on the line. There's no picture but I know he'd like to talk to you. Shall I put him through?"

I could feel my mother come to stand next to me. "Yes," I said breathlessly. "Please, let me speak to my son."

Soon I heard his quavery voice. "Dad? Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me, Scotty," I answered, my own voice trembling. "Are you all right? How is Alan?" I left unspoken the questions I wanted to ask about Emily.

"I..I'm okay," Scott said. "And Alan's fine. We're j..just really cold and really scared. When are you coming to get us? Mom...Mom..."

"I know, Scotty, I know about Mom," I said, leaning against the table hard. "I'm trying really hard to get you out of there, son, but you just have to wait a little longer. Do you have shelter?"

"We're inside the plane, Dad. Theresa helped me arrange it so it'll be warmer but the snow is still coming in through the holes and now it's snowing worse. I've got a fire going but it isn't very big..."

I could hear the terror in his voice and that made it even more unbearable. I heard the noise of my other three sons waking up in the back of the house. My mother left the room to attend to them and I turned back to the phone. "Scotty, I know this is hard, but you've got to try to be brave. I'm coming out there to get you, and that's a promise," I said firmly. "You hold tight until I get there, okay?" I said, pressing my hand against the blank screen. I didn't know how I'd do it, but if I had to beg, borrow or steal transportation, I was going out there _today _and get my sons. "Can you hold on, son?'

"I guess so," he said. "But...come and get us soon?"

"Just as soon as I can, Scotty," I replied. "Theresa, are you still there?"

"I'm here, Mr. Tracy," her face came back to the screen. "I'm sitting with Scott until he can be picked up."

"Thank you, I'm glad someone is with him. Can you tell me who you've contacted about using a snow cat or snowmobile? I'm going to start making some phone calls now that the system is back up," I said crisply, going into command mode. My boys were coming home if I had to ski in.

We kept the primary line clear in case there was news, but Sam radioed everyone he knew and I worked the phones, trying to find some kind of ground transport suitable to the heavy snow and rough terrain. Everyone was sympathetic but, as it turned out, every county in Kansas was stretched to its limit. The state was farming country, and a farmer with extra money was more likely to spend it on a new tractor than a snowmobile. Any that were available for rent, sale or could be commandeered were already in use by the local rescue organizations.

Lunch time arrived before I put the cell phone down. The house had been wonderfully quiet while we were working and I soon found out why. My mother had kept Virgil, John and Gordon in the back of the house with her. When she realized I was off the phone, she turned them loose. I was quickly ambushed by Virgil, a rambunctious seven year old, Johnny my five year old and Gordon at four.

They all wanted to know the same thing. Where's Mommy? Virgil climbed into my lap and was nudged out by Johnny and Gordy. "Where's Mommy?" Virgil demanded. "And where's Scotty? Are you going to go get him now?"

"What have you told them, Mom?" I craned my neck and asked my mother.

She shook her head. "I haven't told them anything except that they went shopping. Until we had the call, I didn't know what to tell them," she paused. "But I will say one thing, somehow Virgil seem to know what happened to Scott. He told me that Scotty was scared and crying and surrounded by snow."

I turned to Virgil and asked him gently, "Is that true, Virgil? Do you know what Scotty's feeling?"

Virgil nodded. "I always could. Doesn't everybody?" I was flabbergasted at my seven year old's logic.

I replied gently, "No, son, I think you and Scotty are a little closer than most brothers are," I replied. "Do you think that if you were somewhere near Scotty you could tell what direction he was in?"

Virgil thought about it for a moment, then he nodded. "Yeah, I bet I could. I can always find him at the park and in the mall. That way I never get lost when Mom takes us...took us shopping," he said, suddenly looking sad.

"You know something about Mommy?" I asked, shaken.

"Yeah," Virgil said sadly. "I can't feel her anymore. I think she went to heaven."

I pulled him close and held all three boys hard, resting my chin atop Johnny's head. "I think you're right, Virgil," I said softly, feeling the tearing sorrow flood me. I took a deep breath. I didn't have time to mourn. I still had two sons out there that I still had to retrieve, but I'd exhausted all my possibilities. The snow was coming down again, another blizzard had moved in and I was helpless.

The house phone rang and I alerted. Mom got to it first, then came and got me with a quizzical look on her face.

"It's for you, Jeff," she said and took Gordon from my arms, shooing Johnny and Virgil toward the television set. I moved in front of the screen and frowned, seeing a face I'd hoped never to see again. He was a pale, fat man with bushy white hair and wire glasses, his tiny blue eyes crinkled with amusement.

"Why, Jeff Tracy, I heard about your family difficulty and thought I'd call to offer my help," he boomed.

"Governor Hillis," I said slowly. "You've heard about the plane crash?"

"Oh yes," said Hillis. "Word does filter up to me. You know, that offer I made to you last month is still open. If I could count on your endorsement in the next election, as Kansas' famous astronaut, I might be able to help you. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."

I had turned him down flat at that cocktail party a month ago, knowing him for a dishonest shyster of a politician who'd steal candy from a baby. He'd already gutted half a dozen social service agencies to pay off his campaign contributors. He was part of the reason that emergency services in Kansas were so underfunded. He'd been after me for months and just being associated with him would sully my name. Emily...Scott... Alan...What choice did I have?

I gritted my teeth and answered. "As a matter of fact, there's a favor you could do for me, Governor. Emergency services are tapped out, they tell me, and have to spend their resources where the threatened population is larger. Would you be able to spare me a State Guard team and a snow-cat?"

"I'm so sorry to hear about that," Governor Hillis said with a mix of glee and false sympathy. "You're in Edwards County and they went down in Marion, I understand? Consider it done. There's a snow-cat and team already on their way from one county over, in Kiowa. They'll stop by to pick you up in an hour and help you find your boy. They've already been in touch with Marion County Dispatch."

"You knew I'd accept your deal," I gritted, rage flooding through me.

"I didn't get where I am today without being a judge of men," Hillis said, with a crocodile grin. "My aide will contact you to set up your speaking schedule."

SCOTT TRACY

After I talked to Dad, Theresa had to hang up for a while, but she said she'd be back. I put the phone down next to me and cuddled closer to Alan. It was so cold and getting colder. I knew I should get more firewood and try to keep the fire going but I was just too tired. After all this time I really hoped that Dad would come get us, but I was starting to doubt that would happen.

What if they didn't come get us? I looked up at the flimsy little plane that kept at least some of the snow off and knew it was getting worse. I'd piled everything I could think of around Alan and me. I'd even taken Mom's blankets off; I didn't think she'd mind. Her face and hands were blue, so I knew she really was dead. Alan had gone to sleep and I was worried about him. He was so small. I'd wrapped all his baby blankets around him and put on his extra sweater, then replaced his baby snow-suit and hood. I opened my jacket and pulled Alan close to my chest, then zipped it up again, leaving only his face peeking out. Then I lay down and tucked the blankets around us as tight as I could. I was so sleepy, I decided to take a nap until they found us or Theresa called back.

JEFF TRACY

While I dressed in my snow gear and waited for the team to arrive, I thought about Virgil and Scott. They'd been inseparable since Virgil was born and seemed to get closer every year. I remembered losing Virgil in a grocery store and Scott deftly retrieving him from under a display. Then the two of them playing endless games of hide and seek, with Virgil unerringly making a beeline for Scott's hiding place. I eyed my seven year old and considered that there might be something in what Virgil was telling me. Then I looked out the windows at the heavy snow fall and realized that a GPS signal might not be enough to find a small plane.

The snow-cat arrived within the hour as promised. It was a big machine with a yellow cab on a pair of treads, suitable for just about any snow condition. I was dressed warmly, waiting for them, with Virgil by my side.

"You aren't bringing a child along with us, are you?" The leader of the snow-cat team snapped angrily.

"We're going to rescue his older brother," I said firmly. "Virgil has a knack for finding him. If this snow continues, we might need him."

The men grumbled but let me bring Virgil along. As for Virgil, he was delighted to be aboard the 'big machine' and peppered the men with questions about it while we traveled. I was content being silent, worrying about my two boys out there in that freezing wilderness.

We finally hit Marion County, traveling largely overland, and began to search for the GPS position the Dispatch Office had tracked. Even so, we were in a large, whited-out area and what I had feared, happened. We couldn't see a thing. We were on gentle rolling plains with occasional patches of trees, all of it covered in deep snow. We knew that the plane had landed in a small grove of trees, which narrowed it down somewhat, but in whiteout conditions that didn't help much.

We tried calling Dispatch, but Scott had stopped answering his phone. I tried his number but it rolled to voice mail. I began to fear that we were too late. I turned to Virgil, in the seat next to me, and asked him, "Virgil, how is Scotty doing now?"

He frowned, his brows meeting in the middle. "I don't know. I think he's sleeping."

The men and I exchanged glances. "Virgil," I continued. "Do you know what direction Scotty is in?"

Without hesitation, Virgil reached a hand out and pointed. "He's that way, Dad."

The driver shrugged and turned the snow-cat to follow Virgil's direction. Periodically, Virgil would alter his direction a bit, but we soon found ourselves next to a small grove of trees with a large, snow-covered lump in the middle.

As the team got up and began to collect gear, I turned to Virgil and said, "Virg, you stay here where it's warm. Will you do that?"

Virgil nodded. "You're gonna get Scotty?"

"Yes, I am, and Alan too. So you just wait here," I finished fastening my heavy jacket and climbed out of the snow-cat, heading for the wreck of the Cessna.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

The snow was deep enough that it was over our heads in spots. The team leader, Jim Smith, had handed out snow shovels to each of us and we worked our way steadily to the grove of trees. At last, we began shoveling snow off the Cessna, working from the sides where it looked like the hatch had been before the wings were torn off.

The plane was was flipped over with a large, snow-covered hole on the side. Jim was the first man in, with flashlight and shovel. "I've got them!" he called back out.

The other two team-members stepped aside and let me in next. I saw Emily lying in a corner underneath the pilot's seat, clearly no longer alive. Jim was kneeling over a little pile of blankets at the other end of a cockpit, next to a small, burned out fire.

"Scott!" I shouted and ran over to where Smith was peeling the blankets back. Kneeling next to him, I saw him finally uncover Scott, curled up in a fetal position with his knees tucked in and his arms wrapped around something...something that was yelling defiantly.

Smith gently moved Scotty's arms aside and unzipped his jacket, releasing a bundled and indignant Alan. "I don't think there's anything wrong with this one," Smith commented as he handed Alan over to me, then turned back to Scott.

Alan was a little bundle of radiating warmth who took one look at me and planted a wet kiss on my cheek. I hugged him close and watched Smith work on my other son. Scotty's eyes were closed and his skin was pale. "He's..he's alive, isn't he?" I asked Smith in a low voice. I could hear the other two men bundling Emily's body up and removing her from the plane behind me. I couldn't lose another loved one, I just couldn't.

Not taking his eyes off my son, Smith replied, "He's alive. Looks like hypothermia. Let's get him back into the 'cat. We have some warmed blankets in there." Rewrapping him in blankets until all I could see was his nose, Smith cradled him in his arms and nodded toward the door of the plane. "Let's get back to the 'cat, Tracy. Since the local hospital's out of commission anyway, we'll try Kinsley General in your neck of the woods."

I nodded back and took Alan back to the snow-cat. Virgil was grinning and bouncing in his seat when I put Alan next to him. "You got 'em!" he crowed, then stopped when Smith handed Scott up to one of the other men, who put him on a padded gurney.

They quickly stripped off most of his blankets and clothing, with warm packs deployed around his trunk. As they were re-wrapping him in heated blankets, Virgil approached Smith. "I can help keep him warm," he said. "When it's cold at night, I climb in with Scotty sometimes."

"Can't hurt," said Smith and pulled the blanket back. Virgil shrugged off his jacket and climbed in next to Scott, then helped pull the blankets back around them both until you could barely see their faces.

Although Alan was actively trying to climb out of my arms, they wrapped us both in blankets as a precaution in case Alan had hypothermia. Alan eventually settled down placidly when I began to rub his back and hum his favorite lullaby to him.

Once we were all strapped down for the trip, Smith started up the snow-cat and we were on our way.

I think I must have slept on the way, because a moment later we had arrived and they were taking Scott's gurney out of the 'cat. Once we were inside the hospital, they unwrapped a sleeping Virgil and handed him out to me. One of the nurses took Alan, also sleeping, so that I could carry Virgil.

I gave Smith and the team members my heartfelt thanks before they took off on another call. Together, my sons and I waited in the Emergency Room's waiting area to hear the verdict on Scott.

Finally a doctor came out and smiled when he saw the three of us buried in blankets on the couch. "Mr. Tracy?"

I gently tucked Alan and Virgil in together and went to talk to the doctor.

"How is he?"

"Scott has mild to moderate hypothermia, but we're warming and hydrating him now. We'll keep him overnight for observation, but you should be able to take him home tomorrow. Would you like to see him?"

"Oh yes!" I said, then remembered the two kids on the couch and looked back at them. I couldn't leave them alone. A nurse took pity on me. "I'll sit with them until you get back, Mr. Tracy," she said. "I've got three of my own."

"Thanks," I called over my shoulder, hurrying after the doctor.

Scott was awake now and sitting up on the gurney, shivering in a blanket. "Scotty!" I cried and ran to hug my son. He hugged me back, hard, and started to cry into my chest. I sat down next to him and held him close, resting my chin on his dark hair. "It's okay, son, you're safe now," I whispered, as the doctor tiptoed out.

"I didn't think anybody was coming," he muttered into my chest. "I thought they were just going to leave us there...and we were all alone and Mom was dead..."

I bit down my rage at the circumstances that had trapped two children in the middle of nowhere for so long. "I know, Scotty, I'm sorry I took so long to get to you." I leaned back and tipped his chin up so that I could study his face. "Will you forgive me for taking so long?"

Tearfully, he nodded, his blue eyes crystalline. "I know you tried," he said. "I know Alan and I weren't as important as those hospital people."

Or the Senator's daughter, I reminded myself. Or the billionaire or the movie star or the power player...No, anonymous little kids, the children of a not-very-unique middle pay-grade astronaut just weren't that important when the big disasters hit. I'd only been able to sell my soul to Earl Hillis because he had a use for me.

At no time, then or now, have I ever uncovered proof that Governor Hillis prevented my sons from being rescued to force me into supporting his candidacy, although I still have my suspicions. I kept my promise and made the speeches and appearances on his behalf, but was glad when he lost the election.

But at that moment, holding Scott, the beginnings of an idea began to grow.

There was a need for a rescue organization, not just in America but worldwide. It should be staffed by professionals dedicated to the idea that everyone deserves to be rescued, regardless of their race, wealth, position or political stance. Too many died because their local governments just couldn't afford up to date equipment or staffing.

What should this group be?

Fast. The rescuers should be on scene quickly to take advantage of that 'golden hour' within which life can be saved. I found out later that had Emily been rescued within an hour or two of the crash, her life might have been saved. Internal bleeding and shock had killed her; both were treatable with prompt care.

Technology. The machines used should be cutting-edge and available to everyone. My inability to get rescuers to my sons still grinds in my gut. There should be machines to fit every circumstance and they should be available to everyone, with trained operators.

Cost. Everyone deserves a rescue, whether or not they are wealthy or politically connected. The children of a poor man are as important as those of a rich one. Because of that, this service should be offered at no charge to everyone.

Secret. The kind of technology it would take to do this shouldn't be used to take life, but to save it. It should not be co-opted by the military of any government for purposes of war.

Persistent. This group must not give up when there are lives to be saved, regardless of how hopeless it may seem. If there's a chance, a rescue should be attempted. Our motto should be "Never give up, no matter the cost."

A plan like this takes money. Lots of it. Money I didn't have, at least not yet. But money, I could make. I'd always been good at finance, but more interested in space. Maybe it was time to change that. It would take hard work and a time commitment, but I thought it might be possible to bring something like this into being. Give myself, say, fifteen years to have enough of a financial cushion and the time to find the right engineers, designers, pilots, trained responders to staff this new organization. I looked down at the boy burrowed into my chest. He wanted to be a pilot. In a few years, I'd have a talk with him about my idea, and discuss it with his brothers when the time came. Maybe some of those professionals would come from my own family.

This would be the truest monument to my Emily, the saving of life in her name. Better than a headstone or even a charitable foundation. Other families wouldn't suffer the bereavement that mine was just beginning to feel, at least not if I had anything to say about it!

EPILOGUE

SCOTT TRACY

I still remember my Mom's funeral. Her coffin had an American flag draped over it, that they folded and handed to Dad. I thought for sure he'd break down when he took it, but he just set it on his knee and stroked it. A bugler played taps and I shivered when I heard it but when the jets flew over in a missing-man formation, we all lost it. We stood together, all of us Tracys, to honor her. My mom had flown one of those jets. Dad had, too, but he really had wanted to be an astronaut. No, Mom was the gifted pilot in the family and I hoped to the bottom of my heart that I could be like her.

The years that followed were hard years. Dad was crushed by Mom's death and, to us, changed suddenly into a workoholic business man. I was resentful and angry at losing Dad as well as Mom until he sat me down on my twelfth birthday and told me about his idea.

The light dawned. Of course, this was the best way to remember and honor Mom's memory by saving other people. The idea that I could prevent other families from losing loved ones was incredible, and I immediately pledged to Dad that I'd help him in any way I could.

Grandma was in on the plan from the very beginning. She took care of us all and helped Dad raise us. I focused on school and my dream of being a pilot and rode hard on my brothers to get them ready. As each brother got old enough, Dad and I explained the idea and I'm proud to say that every one of my brothers was enthusiastic about it. Knowing the need for secrecy, we didn't tell strangers about this family project, but then nobody would have believed us anyway.

Virgil decided to be an engineer and design the Thunderbird machines, as we chose to call them. John had always had a fascination with the stars, so he focused on astronaut training as his goal, eventually with an interest in languages and communications added to it. Gordon had always loved the water, so he chose oceanography and became a submariner. Alan followed John into astronaut training and our orbiting space station.

And me? I've been dedicated to International Rescue since Dad told me his idea. I remember how it feels to be helpless, waiting for a rescue that doesn't come. Every time I give a child back to its parents, I remember being reunited with Dad after the pain of losing Mom. I'm happy doing the job I do and hope to continue it for many years to come.

NOT THE END, JUST THE BEGINNING


End file.
